Harry Potter Fate's Champion
by 19lams5
Summary: What if Harry Potter, once loyal to his family, is neglected. With the respect of the dark lady, the financial cunning of a goblin, and a determination to prove himself, watch as Harry becomes the best. Neglected! Prodigy, Dueller! Harry, Smart! Harry, WBWL
1. Chapter 1

October 31st, 1981 would go down in history as the happiest day in the Dark Lady's rise to power, she was sure of it. Lady Voldemort, born from a useless muggle father who abandoned her to an orphanage, and an unnoteworthy mother who she paid little heed to. Years of abuse had hardened her soul as she climbed the ranks of magical society with the silver tongue of Grindelwald, the political machinations of Dumbledore and the power of Merlin himself. For a decade her loyal death eaters fought by her side, eliminating anyone who dared to speak her name. She had studied 'the art of war', 'guerilla warfare' and 'psychological warfare' from muggle books. For all her hate of them, she at least respected their ability to harm each other, having been on the receiving end for much of her childhood. Thus she had grown stronger, and attracted followers, and oh how ironic and poetic was it for those purebloods to be kissing the hem of her feet, that of a half-blood.

But she could not afford to daddle, nor ruminate, for tonight was an opportunity that would not present itself easily. Her follower Severus Snape had told her of the prophecy, "The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies." This produced quite the dilemma for her, as her spies reported three possible children who fit the prophecy, no more no less. Harry James Potter, born July 31st 1978, Heather Dorea Potter, born July 31st 1980, and Neville Longbottom, born July 30th 1980. She had ruminated for days after learning of this, but had settled for the Potters. Two of the three candidates were at the same place, and the Potters had been the larger of two thorns at his side, and she had disdainful admiration of the mudblood Lily Potter. Lady Voldemort did not judge by petty things such as blood, and to an extent, she saw herself in Lily Potter, which is why thrice she had let her and James escape rather than kill them. No other non-pureblood had received such mercy, yet her offers for them to join her had been rebuffed, and now it was time to show them the price to pay!

Pettegrew, how she despised the rodent. She felt little emotion most of the time, save a bit of care for her precious inner circle-her first followers-and a bit of hatred and grudging respect to the few powerful enough to survive and defy her. But one emotion that was hatred consumed her at the thought of a traitor, and one of such severity. To be named secret keeper was a sacred honour, for the charm could not work unless the one who cast the Fidelius believed in the secret keeper completely. For a secret keeper to willingly betray one was unthinkable, and had never happened in recorded history. When she first learned of Wormtail's defection, she had been tempted to kill the man outright, yet pragmatism triumphed over emotion, and she kept him, for he held the key for her to victory.

She entered Godric's Hollow unopposed, to be met by Wormtail as expected, who bowed down immediately. "Did the plan work?" she asked curtly. Her voice was innocent and melodic, meant to lull one into a feeling of safety and comfort, but all her followers knew there was steel backing it.

"Y-y-yes my lady," he stuttered out, "the Potters have gone to defend Thimble Village as predicted, my lady, a brilliant diversion. The children are upstairs in their room now."

"You have done well, Peter. Leave and return to Malfoy manor, await Bellatrix's return from the Longbottoms and Malfoy's return from the raid. Do not do anything stupid, do I make myself clear?"

"Yes my lady," he whimpered before scampering out of the house with a bow. She watched him leave with distaste, but remembered time was short, and ascended the stairs with grace. Her cape billowed as she marched down the corridor and entered the children's room, seeing the crib where she was shocked to see a little boy holding on the ledge, staring directly at her with his emerald green eyes. For a moment, the dark lady forgot why she was here, entranced by the mesmerizing emeralds, but she quickly clamped down on her occlumency and raised her wand.

"You do not fear me," she noted curiously, sparing a glance at the little girl behind him sleeping. A part of her despised children-the very same creatures who tormented her for a decade before Hogwarts, yet this warred with her motherly nature she long thought dead.

"Why would I fear one who allows themselves to be guided by the foolish words of a prophecy, to be surrounded by traitorous men who would just as easily bed you and then dump you for another? You compensate for your hurt by building your empire, but you shall collapse, and your kingdom with you."

Lady Voldemort was shocked. She did not expect to be having any sort of conversation with a three year old, let alone an intelligent one. Even she, the great dark lady, would not know concepts such as patriarchy, prophecies, treason and statesmanship and psychology. She could not help herself, she gave a light melodic laugh that weakened even the strongest willed of men. To her surprise his eyes only hardened, radiating with fierce determination.

"My, my, you're a smart one, aren't you?" she cooed, to her own shock. "I want to see such talent nurtured, so I shall give you a choice. Step aside and allow me to kill your sister, she could just as easily be part of the prophecy as you. I could take her and leave you alive."

"And turn my back on family, never. Do you think so lowly of me?" he scoffed, and the Dark Lady felt her respect for this boy go up. He was clearly more powerful one, and her logical side screamed for her to eliminate this threat. The practiced killer raised her wand, though not without slight tremble and hesitation.

"Step aside, this is your final warning. I can either kill you both, or just your sister, it would be a waste for you to die too," the dark lady mused. Of course she would not spare the boy, it was too risky, but she was curious to see how he would react. A part of her would feel strangely proud while the rest respectful for what he said next. He was wise beyond his years, smarter than many men she was burdened to lead.

"You lie. You would never let me live, and I shall not play your games." His eyes burned and she was at risk of being mesmerized again. "Take me, my blood for my life, my life for my honour, my honour for my family!"

The dark lady resisted the urge to clap, she would not mock the child who so clearly deserved at least some measure of respect. Here before her was someone with the potential to be a true enemy, and a part of her screamed for her to take the child and allow him to grow up, to see what he would become. But she knew this could not be, she was selfish and she knew it. He had to die.

"You have read the works of Artemis Grey, I am impressed. But unfortunately for you I can read your mind, and I know that you are trying to stall for the desperate hope that your parents will return. How I yearn for someone to be as devoted to me as you your family!"

Boy and Woman stared at each other for several moments, both understanding what would happen next. There was respect in both their eyes, from him because of her power, and from her because of his loyalty.

"I shall greet death as a friend," he said emotionlessly. "I shall rejoin you, grandfather!" She watched him give her a nod, as though to say he was ready, and she felt her hand tremble as she raised it. A part of her knew he nodded precisely to say that, resigned to death. The bravest of men had been reduced to tears, begging her to spare them, offering money, political power, family members or anything they had, but here before her was a mere three year old who would put them all to shame.

She gave a nod as well as he stared at her defiantly, blocking her view of his sister. "Goodbye, young one. Avada Kedavra!"

The green bolt of death shot out of her wand, headed straight for his head. She watched him continue to meet her gaze, lifting his hands to his side so he looked like a cross, head still facing her as he stared death in the eye.

She watched as the bolt shot towards his head, but all of a sudden it stopped. She watched as his concentrated gazed focused on the green bolt of energy, and her mind screamed at the impossibility of the situation in front of her as the killing curse hovered just centimeters from his head. He brought his hands together in a clap, and the impossible happened-the killing curse rebounded. So enthralled by this display, the Dark Lady did not have the time to dodge before the curse impacted her full on, and her body vainly tried to hold itself together. Decades of rituals that stretched her still youthful body beyond its limits had taken its toll, and her body imploded in a violent burst of magic as she screamed in agony.

A black wisp of smoke shot towards Harry, and he was helpless to stop it as it latched onto his forehead, forming (though he did not know it at the time) a lightning bolt, the norse symbol of power. Then he was blasted off his feet as the magic had finally condensed enough to achieve critical mass, and lashed out at the entire room. His forehead twitched in pain and he concentrated on his magic, pushing all of himself against the lightning bolt scar that was a horcrux, and unknowingly assimilated all of its knowledge and memories into himself, as well as part of the dark lady's power.

HPFC

"Where's Peter? Oh merlin, James, do you think?" Both adults did not hesitate to charge up the stairs to find their children. If Peter had left, it could only mean that he had betrayed them to the dark lord. "Harry! Heather!" Lily Potter's desperate screams echoed in the house as the two bounded up the steps three at a time, wands drawn as they entered the room, past the door blasted apart to see a scene of complete destruction.

Nursery books were strewn about, the bookshelf with a crater in it that extended to the wall while pages were burning into ash. The carpet was obliterated from existence, only a few patches of the fabric remaining. A chair was knocked off its feet, with half of it missing.

"My babies!" Lily cried out relieved as they saw Harry sitting cross legged with Heather in his lap, a large black snake symbol on her forehead. "Heather! My baby! Mummy's here!" she squealed as she rushed to take her off his lap. He merely sat there dazedly, and after she gave him a glance to see no observable damage, she turned all of her attention on her youngest, who now had a terrible scar on her forehead. She was still sleeping peacefully, and Lily began rocking her gently while James watched on fondly.

A long white bearded man stepped through the door, wand in hand as he paused to survey the scene. Reluctantly, he lowered it and stepped towards Lily, eyes focused on her forehead. He walked over to Harry without a word, lifting his hair and staring at him before letting out a hum and walking back to Lily, standing near the door.

"James, Lily, I think that it is safe to say, that Heather Dorea Potter is the chosen one, she is the girl-who-lived," he said with a grandfatherly smile. "She has saved us all."


	2. Chapter 2

Harry James Potter, eldest of two of James and Lily Potter by exactly two years watched tearfully as his family and their friends celebrated in the main hall of Potter manor. In the middle of the picture perfect party was his sister Heather Dorea Potter, the girl-who-lived. He remembered his excitement when Lily, for he would never call that woman a mother, gave birth to his sister exactly two years after him. He remembered cradling her in his arms soon after she was born, or more accurately having her in his small lap while he watched her sleeping peacefully, was the most happy he had ever felt. He remembered dreaming of celebrating their birthdays together and doing brother-sister things that would cement their love for one another. How naive he had been.

After that night, the family had moved back to Potter manor, where he was quickly left in a room before James and Lily disappeared off to tend to his sister. He had stayed in that room for three days, cared only for by the elf Pimpsy, who brought him meals as well as gave him books and toys to entertain himself.

On the fourth day, he had finally asked the question to his caretaker, "Pimpsy, where is mom and dad?" A part of him already knew the truth, but he had to hear it for himself to believe it. The elf bowed her head and avoided his gaze. "Pimpsy, I command you to tell me where James and Lily are."

The elf seemed to struggle, shaking her head violently before letting out a sigh. "Master and Mistress be taking little miss out to celebrate with their friends. Master and mistress not be coming back to Potter Manor for the past few days."

A part of Harry died that day, and he had buried himself in studying from the Potter family library and training himself rigorously, physically and mentally. From his knowledge he began constructing the most formidable mindscape in the history of occlumency, while he read through the books of the library at a prodigious rate, solidifying the understanding of spells that were ingrained to him by Lady Voldemort's knowledge. Light or dark magic, he did not care, and he merely continued reading. James and Lily (for he swore never to call them mother and father again) rarely were home with Heather, always out of the manor and staying over at friends or overseas to attend parties and gatherings. For weeks, the only contact he had was with the few elves at Potter manor, and at the rare times that Harry was able to catch the Potters in the manor they were always busy playing with Heather, and he would be brushed aside or told not to interrupt them. James' scowl whenever he entered a room with them in it or Lily's soft sigh of annoyance when he opened his mouth to speak were burned to his mind, and he fell further into his books for solitude. He learned quickly, easily considered a genius, and he learned to master wandless magic, seeing as he had no wand. There were benefits to not being monitored: he was free to read books on dark magic that his parents surely would not have allowed him if they had known.

Harry learnt about many things, armithacy, charms, transfiguration, runes, and duelling. Potter manor had a small training room with muggle weights and a treadmill as well as several sparring dummies that seemed to have laid there unused for years. Harry quickly made use of them, training himself first against one, then two, then three opponents, fighting wandlessly. Leading up to his fourth birthday, he had mastered the disarming spell, the stunning spell, and after much difficulty, reducto, the blasting curse.

On his fourth birthday, Harry held high hopes. He had been training hard for nine months, and he was probably the only four year old in the world he knew that could duel, even basically. He was extremely healthy, having gotten Pimpsy to put him on a strict diet and himself training hard both physically and academically. He had done everything to make his parents proud, and perhaps on his birthday he would finally be recognized.

The door to his bedroom opened at eight in the morning, and Harry pretended to have been sleeping, childish excitement bubbling as he forgot about all his oaths, ready to rejoin his family. He rolled over and sat on the ledge of the bed, a wide smile on his face as he saw his father James enter. The sunlight was shining through the window, and there was a large grin on his face, it was picture perfect.

"Harry," he said, and the voice sounded like music to his years, "today's Heather's birthday, and we're going to celebrate!" Harry's enthusiasm was lessened, but he still held hope. James had said 'we'! "So I want you to stay in this room and out of the way, understood?"

Harry was shocked at the sneer on his father's face, and the whole world came crashing down on him. A slither of hope remained in him and he had to try, for his own sake, "But-"

"But nothing! Do you need me to place a locking charm on your door, hmm?" he growled. Harry gave a nod and James turned on his heel, swiftly leaving and slamming the door on the way out. Harry let out a sigh, James had not even noticed the dozens of books taken from the library arranged on his bookshelf, ranging from the mundane to the unspeakable. A part of him had hoped that he would have noticed, would have chastised him as any good parent would. A part of him hoped. And that part died.

He was likely the smartest and most knowledgeable four year old year old on the planet, for he had the knowledge and memories of the most infamous dark lady in all of Britain's history. He remembered declaring boldly to the face of the dark lady, "My blood for my life, my life for my honour, my honour for my family." He had been proud to be a Potter, proud to be a son and a brother.

Now he was watching from the top of the stairwell, watching his sister celebrate with family and friends as he was left forgotten on the second floor. Even his own godfather Sirius Black had abandoned him-the man was currently transformed into a dog running around in circles while his sister giggled, sitting securely in James' lap. Harry prepared to turn away, but just at that moment, Heather's eyes met his. He held hope that somehow, his sister would remember him, and bring him back into the family.

Then she smirked, a superior smirk that taunted him on how his own parents forgot about him, forgot that her birthday was in fact their birthday. His heart clenched and the tears fell freely now. All the previous love he held had morphed into disappointment, which was now a fledgling hatred. And from hatred bore determination: he would fend for himself and build up a reputation. Harry did not want to be loved, not anymore. He wanted to be respected. And he knew just how to do it.

HPFC

Seven year old Harry stepped out of the floo into Diagon Alley's public floospace, away from the usual floo point that was the Leaky Cauldron. Wearing his heir robes and walking with determination, he ignored the rare looks of confusion he got and strode to the white marble building of Gringotts. The guards at the door sneered at him, no doubt thinking he was there to cause trouble, but he ignored them, stepping into line where he waited until a teller was free.

The goblin looked at him annoyedly, though this annoyance quickly disappeared when Harry spoke fluent gobbrok, "Good day to you, teller. I am Harry James Potter, of house Potter, and I have come to see my accounts."

"Very well, human, if you are who you say you are, then I shall take you to your account manager. Cut your hand and allow five drops of blood to fall on this piece of parchment."

Harry took the knife and without flinching pricked his index finger, allowing the requisite five drops of blood to fall before rubbing his thumb over the wound and healing it. He could tell the goblin was mildly impressed by his eyes, but made no comment as the goblin took the piece of parchment, which now read 'Harry James Potter, age eight, son of James Charlus Potter and Lily Jean Potter, heir to house Potter, owner of vault 683 Potter Trust Vault'.

"You are who you claim to be. What business do you have with Gringotts? You are but seven years old, whether you speak Gobbrok or not."

"I am here to start up a new vault, tell me more about them, teller Griphook."

The goblin looked contemplative, as if trying to figure out how he knew the goblin's name, but seemed to think better of asking it and began explaining, "There are three types of vault, High security, Medium security, Low security. Each can have a designation of individual, family, or trust. Take for instance the Potter vaults, there is a family vault, your mother has her own vault, and you and your sister have trust vaults. The security designations are obvious, with a low security vault costing one sickle a month, the medium security vault costing three galleons a month and the high security vault costing a hundred galleons a month. Family vaults are those that are accessible to several members within a family, companies also fall into this classification. The individual vault is as it states, an individual vault. The trust vault is one accessible by a children, usually with restrictions, though dependant on the family. Why would you need to know this though?"

"Because, teller Griphook, of a little known Gringotts policy that the trust vault refills on the owner's seventh birthday as well as the eleventh. As well as the fact that I am not acquiring any interest through the trust vault."

"Hmm, most wise, human. Though there is more to it, tell me and I shall aid you," the goblin offered. Harry took this as a good sign.

"My sister is the girl-who-lived," he inwardly smirked when the goblin snorted at this, "and thus gets my parents full attention while I am left to be free. As such I am trying to work towards financial independence. As a upper class family the Potters follow tradition of starting a trust vault for their children, which I have been led to believe is the standard fifty thousand galleons, incomparable to the family vault's millions, certainly, but still nothing to scoff at, especially for someone looking for financial independence. Normally, most heirs do not use money from their vault until eleven, so the goblin laws designed to honour the equiox number of birthdays is simply ignored. However I want to get as much money as possible, outside the control of my family, and thus here I am. If I can get the full amount moved to a separate vault before noon today then the moment after noon I can take another fifty thousand, or whatever number it is and put it in my own vault. One hundred thousand galleons is nothing to scoff at, enough for the average person to survive two years, five if one stretched their finances, though a petty amount seeing as a Comet Two Sixty, quite a standard broom and toy, costs two thousand galleons, with a high end Nimbus Seventeen Hundred costs a staggering thirty thousand galleons. However I do not plan on making such frivolous spending."

"Hmm, well researched, young one. Walk with me." He hopped off his stool and began leading Harry past the back and into the offices, with Harry following closely behind. "Normally, I would ignore the whinings of a mere eight year old, yet you seem well researched and are surprisingly well mannered, something which certainly cannot be said for your father. You take after your grandfather in that respect, or so I have heard based on others. The Potter accounts are managed by senior account manager Barchoke, a clan mate of mine, so normally I would not consider helping you, as it would be a perceived slight against him. Fortunately for you, Barchoke is lazy, similar to your father, and has allowed the Potter accounts to become stagnant, and I see an opportunity for us, young Potter."

Harry nodded along, pleased with how it was going. He looked at a clock passing by, and noted it was ten in the morning, he had two hours to convince the goblin to authorize the transfer. "While most goblins do not deign to understand human affairs, I have familiarized myself with the accounts my clan is responsible for, to better prepare to take control in the future, and yet now I see a gift horse. Answer me this question honestly and I will aid you, young Potter, what are all your reasons for seeking financial independence."

They arrived inside an office, where the goblin gestured for Harry to take a seat as he himself took a seat at his desk. Harry took a breath and began, "As I stated, my sister is the girl-who-lived, and so my parents decided to shower her with affection and ignore me. Normally if that was it I could live with it, but due to the political situation I would not be surprised if in future she is made heiress to the family, seeing as she is the more famous and politically powerful. I don't trust my family, and I have no more love for them, for I have been alone since I was four years old. Furthermore, I value my own independence, and want myself to be strong to avoid being taken advantage of. Furthermore, and I am sure you are aware and concerned yourself, James is ill suited to managing wealth, and I don't want him to affect me if push comes to shove."

The goblin gave him a look of something akin to sympathy, something Harry did not expect. Clearing his throat, the goblin pulled open his drawer and fished out several pieces of paper and mused, "I see. Very well, here is a standard contract for a mid-class client, as you would be classified. Sign and you shall be given a new vault."

Harry took the pieces of parchment and began reading. Seeing the goblin's questioning look, he said nonchalantly, "Surely you don't expect me to just sign, if I haven't brought a lawyer I am obviously familiar with contract law." The goblin gave a hearty laugh, and Harry allowed a smile to form on his lips as he read the contract. Gringotts would compensate him for any money stolen, he would pay three galleons per month, but there would be a yearly compound interest payment of five percent, any investment he chose to make through Gringotts would come with a two percent transaction cost, he would be allowed to purchase Gringotts' services as a client, he had to switch to a high security vault if the total amount exceeded one million galleons. Overall, he was satisfied Griphook was not cheating him.

"Tell me, Griphook, what happened to all of grandfather's investments."

"Lord Potter decided to sell off all his assets at below market rates, which was not a bad move, considering the war, but the impact was mostly felt by local stocks, seeing as international investments such as Nimbus actually saw an increase in shares thanks to overseas markets. Overall, it was a good move, though keeping international stocks would have yielded quite a bit more money, though hindsight is of course ten out of ten."

"Hmm, and what companies would you recommend investing in, if any? I admit to being ignorant towards the state of the world wizarding economy."

"Hmm, there aren't a lot of opportunities right now, I would recommend sticking to interest payments for now. If you had more money, then the interest rate would have been slightly higher, though for your case I believe your course of action is most wise."

Harry nodded in agreement as he signed the papers, poking his index finger with another of Griphook's knives and allowing several drops of blood to fall onto the paper to seal it officially.

"Congratulations, then, you are the new, proud lender of vault six hundred thirty seven," Griphook said cheerfully, shaking Harry's hand. "And from now on I am your account manager. I will authorize the transfer now."

Griphook pulled out something Ameon recognized as a messenger book, which were books connected to others, with writing in one being visible in the others. He presumed Griphook was writing the transfer orders. "It will take several hours for the physical transfer to be complete, but rest assured the transfer has gone through and will be authorized." Griphook glanced at the clock and mused, "Well would you look at that? It's eleven already, how time flies in intelligent conversation. You can take your leave now, heir Potter, I will send you an owl to confirm the second transaction goes through later today. Here is your vault key." Harry took the small key almost reverently, it was a shiny silver and had a small tag reading '637'.

"Thank you Griphook," Harry said sincerely, and the goblin nodded in acknowledgement of the platitude. "I presume this means my Hogwarts tuition comes out of my parents' vault?"

"Yes, if the trust vault is empty then it shall come out of the main vault. I'm sure that Lord Potter would have too much paperwork to handle to notice such a trivial amount."

"And I don't suppose there is any way some paperwork could be mishandled so the trust vault becomes a yearly refilled one?"

Griphook let out a toothy grin. "I like you a lot, human. You think like a goblin. Alas the Potter vaults have been much depleted from their glory days, but I doubt they would notice, I suppose. Very well, I'll have the paperwork filed. If this works your vault will refill every year, I presume you would want the funds to be immediately transferred to your personal vault?"

"Indeed. If you see any investment opportunities, then I am open to suggestions. Personally, I have a proposal, if you would hear me out."

"I'm listening," Griphook said, interested in what this cunning human had to say.

"Well think about it, most wizards rarely go to the muggle world so barely use muggle currency, but every year muggleborns change their pounds into galleons, meaning that Gringotts continues to build their position of pounds even though goblins can't spend the money. The cost of gold in the muggle world is so high that to buy it to create galleons would be ridiculous."

"True, what do you propose then?"

"I propose we start a business, Griphook. Every year countless muggleborns and half bloods leave the wizarding world, we set up a business that gives them a better rate than Gringotts. You also go to your superiors telling them you've found a buyer for pounds, and negotiate an extremely low rate by telling them their pounds are simply useless sitting there. Once that is complete, we take our cheaply bought pounds, use it to exchange with the muggleborns and invest in the muggle world."

"What else," Griphook asked eagerly.

"We then start an importing business," Harry said with a feral smile. Griphook looked confused and gestured for him to explain. "The wizarding world's things are often more expensive than the muggle world's. Clothes cost dozens of galleons a piece, books cost galleons a piece because the wizarding printing presses are still hand operated, and the most profitable perhaps, food from the few wizarding farms there are cost so much that even a simple meal at the Leaky Cauldron costs several galleons. The exchange rate is fifty pounds to a galleon! A meal in the muggle world easily costs much less, because they can mass produce food in industrial scale farms."

"More, tell me more!"

"Not to mention, muggle objects can easily be considered exquisite or unique. We could literally start guided tour vacations leading wizards to the muggle world. A cruise across the mediterranean easily goes for under a thousand pounds or twenty galleons, when an international portkey to France costs a hundred. We could sell that example cruise for a hundred galleons seeing as it is a full holiday, and people would think they're getting a wonderful deal when we're making hundreds if not thousand percent profit margins."

"Brilliant! Simply brilliant! But how will we staff these operations?"

"Squibs and muggleborns is the way to go. They often are already exiled to the muggle world so it will be easy to pay them with our cheaply acquired pounds. Squibs especially will be useful, seeing as they're so heavily discriminated against that many feel they have no option but to leave the magical world, but this will work even for the muggleborns, who often can't find jobs in the wizarding world because of discrimination, but lack the educational background to reintegrate with the muggle world. What we'll do is set up a false documentation scheme and hire tutors to help them catch up and take muggle exams, and then have them attend muggle universities, all paid for by us of course."

"Why?" Griphook interjected, bamboozled by the idea of giving away money.

"Because we'll have one of the contract conditions be that they have to work for us for ten years at a moderate salary before the costs are forgiven. Otherwise, they have the option to pay us, say double or triple the total cost of the education and the documentation. Either we get a cheap and qualified workforce, or we make a one to two hundred percent return within around five years, not bad for the wizarding world."

"Why not charge them more, or have them work for free? They'd be desperate, wouldn't they?" Griphook questioned.

"But think about it from their perspective, if they feel abused and wronged by the rest of the wizarding world, and we come along and offer them relatively fair terms, even giving them a perceived way out, how would they feel?"

"Indebted and loyal," Griphook said with realization. "I shall have an investment counsellor come and meet you at once!"

"Or, you could wait to hear the deal I offer you."

"Go on," Griphook said eagerly, eyes sparkling in excitement.

"Instead of going through Gringotts, which will likely see me be charged thousands of galleons just to get a meeting, we do this on our own. I hire you officially on the role of consultant, which by goblin law you are allowed to take because of the perceived work experience you can get." Griphook gasped as Harry easily recited goblin law. In reality, you become manager of the operation, to be frank a higher position than you would otherwise even dream of achieving for decades to come. I'll even sweeten the deal by giving you twenty five percent of the profits. The company will likely lose money initially, well for the three to five years it'll take to educate the first batch of workers anyways, but until then I'm sure you can manage the import export idea and tourist idea. You might want to offer jobs to a few other junior tellers, they'd be eager for an opportunity to advance, and would work diligently for low wages."

"You would accept more goblin workers?"

"Why not, I have nothing but respect for the goblins. I'll invest ninety five thousand galleons initially into the scheme, you'll receive a wage of a hundred galleons a month, small, I agree, but given you'll get twenty five percent of the profits in the future, I think a fair investment, especially seeing as you'll be able to keep your day job at Gringotts. It'll take a while for them to finish their education and be ready to run the businesses, until then you only have to worry about setting up. Profits from all the businesses will be split fifty-fifty into a reserve and profits, of which you'll receive your twenty five percent and I the other seventy five."

"Why do I only get twenty five percent if I'm doing most of the organization?"

"It's my idea, and goblin honour prevents you from stealing it. Furthermore, the only vault you're managing is mine, add to that I'm the heir of a very important family, you'll be ruined and executed if I so much as complain to your manager. Furthermore, I'm offering a good deal for you when otherwise you probably would have gotten a fixed commision of a hundred galleons if you're lucky, as well as a path to quick promotion. You're not even risking any of your own funds, and you would have still earned a bit of money on the side of your job as teller if it fails. That and you'll have the opportunity to indebt your fellow tellers by offering them side jobs as well, and you have very little to lose and much to gain. Hundreds if not thousands of goblins would kill to be in your position, teller Griphook, so tell me, are you in, or are you out?"

"I'm in, the contract paperwork will be sent to you by the end of the week," the goblin promised.

"Good, may your gold forever flow."

"And may your enemies fall to your blade," Griphook said with a toothy grin. Recognizing the dismissal, Harry walked out of the office, tracing his path back outside to the bank and making his way back to the lobby of Gringotts.


	3. Chapter 3

"My my, what an interesting mind. A shame that your occlumency won't help you here young one," Alistar the sorting hat said amusedly. "It's been quite a while since I met any child with occlumency, I bet you'll be interesting, let's start, shall we?"

Harry couldn't see out of the hat as it's brim blocked his view. Before him about half of the students were already sorted, so far with most having gone to Slytherin or Ravenclaw. He had grit his teeth as he went up after his name was called, whispers of 'the girl-who-lived's brother?', 'Heather Potter has a brother' and 'do you think he'll get me an autograph from her' reminding him that he would be judged by his sister.

"My, my, so much to go through, such determination. Going to try and join the quidditch team as well as the duelling team to make a name for yourself, admirable...admirable career paths I suppose. Hmm, what's this, the real boy-who-lived, only to have your family turn your backs on you, how...tragic."

"Your sympathy is noted," Harry said with a forced smile, and the hat chuckled ruefully. "It is more than most would give."

"Hmm, I have quite the dilemma, here, mister Potter. Hufflepuff is out, while you have the hard working quality you do not trust easily, even if you are loyal to a fault to those who are close to you. Gryffindor would never work, you would likely slaughter the lot of them given the chance, no, you would never jump first and plan second, even if Godric himself would have loved you for your bravery. Standing up to the dark lady, not an easy feat, especially for a three year old. I suppose I better put you-"

"Put me in Slytherin and I will kill every single one of them, followed by the Gryffindors before I raze Hogwarts to the ground," Harry promised, shoving a vision of him doing exactly that for the hat to see. The hat gave a frown, if that was at all possible.

"Are you sure? You could be great in Slytherin, and perhaps make Slytherin great again."

"My plans require me to be inconspicuous, and I have little interest in solving society's prejudice. Let the so called leaders figure that out," Harry said bitterly. "I'm just a child, after all."

"Hmm, the most smart child I have ever met, certainly, if nothing else you have my respect for that, just as you command her's. If you were made the boy-who-lived, certainly you could have done great things, great things indeed. Alas it is not to be, and you will have the burden of facing the dark lady once again without the benefits befitting. It is why you train so hard in duelling, is it not? I would normally frown against a child learning the unforgivables at age seven, and casting it successfully no less, but all I can say is you will do great things, mister Potter. Perhaps terrible, perhaps not, but great nonetheless."

Harry ignored the smug feeling of validation he felt at the hat's approval, as well as the mutterings of the rest of the students, curious as to why the brother of the girl-who-lived would be taking so long.

"Well I have dallied long enough, my first prerogative is to protect these hallowed halls of the founders, and I have little doubt in Slytherin you would find darkness and cause much destruction. Salazar would have fought long and hard for you to be in his house, with your cunning, intelligence and determination, but I do not wish to see the entire Slytherin house brutally subjugated, even if it might be what it needs. Thus, that leaves RAVENCLAW! Good luck, Harry, may fortune smile on you."

"Thank you Alistar, perhaps we can have a chat sometime?"

"That would be welcome, though I doubt the old man Albus would allow it," the hat lamented. Harry felt professor Mcgonagall take the hat off his head, and strode with purpose towards the Ravenclaw table, all of whom had rose up and clapped for him. He made his way to an empty seat beside a boy named Roger Davies and a girl named Julia Brightstar, who had been sorted before him. Further down the table was Cassandra Burrow, who gave him a soft smile and a slight blush when he locked eyes with her. He supposed his green eyes were quite mesmerizing.

"Miss Brightstar, miss Burrow, mister Davies, a pleasure to meet the three of you," Harry said with a bow of his head, giving Roger a firm handshake and Julia a kiss on the knuckles as she blushed furiously. Cassandra looked slightly miffed that she did not receive the same treatment, but she was sitting one seat away across the table so it could not be helped.

"So mate, tell us more about yourself, I was just telling Julia and Cassandra here how I'm going to try for the quidditch team and try and become the youngest player. Most of the team uses school brooms, or so I heard, and I won't be at a disadvantage."

"What position do you play?" Harry asked, genuinely curious. He remembered at the age of seven he had realized that duelling professionally was difficult, and despite his talent he needed a backup plan, and had decided to train in quidditch as well, seeing as his father was talented he hoped he had inherited something. It turned out, he did, and from that day on he spent hours every day practicing either catching the snitch, or throwing a quaffle through the hoops in the family pitch on the manor grounds. James had been quite the quidditch fanatic, though rarely being at home, gave Harry the perfect opportunity to use his quidditch set and practice, as well as his nimbus 1700. He liked the sport decently, and if it could help him as a career he would commit to it. That was not to say he did not continue training in duelling, or his other works in potions, armithacy, transfiguration and runes. It just meant that he cut into his leisure reading time and sleep, reducing it from ten hours a day to six.

"Chaser, I've been told I'm amazing in the few games that I've joined between family friends, I've quite the good pass, though my shooting is not good. I also enjoy strategy, which is why I want to become captain. What about you?"

Even the girls looked at him curious, despite the fact that he doubted they were interested in the sport. "Oh, I've trained a bit in both being a seeker and chaser, I started off as a seeker because it was the most prestigious position, but then I realized I have a much better chance to get in as a chaser, three positions versus one. I imagine that I enjoy playing an interrupting seeker from my training, so I thought, why not do a bit of chasing as well. It gives me a better shot at joining the team early."

"Damn, I'm impressed, if only I could, but I'm horrible at seeking, I can never find the snitch when I try. Any tips to offer?"

"Train with both your hands, that way if you're injured in one you can continue playing. It also makes it easier to confuse the keeper. Also, train with bludgers, one of the first things I tried to do to enhance my training was to charm the bludgers to fly after me, and it has made me faster and more flexible."

"You're crazy, sending blugers after yourself," Roger said with a laugh, clapping him on the back good naturedly. Harry was quite surprised that none of them seemed to have hero-worship, and had yet to ask him anything on his sister, something he was grateful for. "I could never do that willingly, have you gotten hit?"

"Yes, though every time it hurt like hell, and I became even faster and nimble to avoid a repeat. It's actually helped with my duelling as well. But enough about quidditch, odds are we won't get on the team anyways, and the girls seem a bit bored, so why don't we talk about duelling. Last time I brought that up in the conversation Julia became quite interested, if the gleam in her eye was anything to go by."

The girl in question blushed with a ducked head, murmuring, "What? I like duelling, I've had to learn some good hexes against my older sister." They all shared a laugh, clapping when the newest Ravenclaw was sorted, Jeremy Stretton walking over nervously to the table.

"Hey everyone, glad to meet you. So, Harry, what is it like being the brother of the girl-who-lived? What is she like? Can I get an autograph?"

Harry resisted the urge to sigh, and he did not seem to much of a fanboy so he reasoned if he made it awkward enough he would not be pestered. It would also send a signal for others not to bother him on the subject. He gave the boy a death glare, and the boy seemed to wet his pants, not least because Harry had channeled some of his magic into making his eyes seem to light on fire and radiate power.

"Well, she's quite smart, we talked even as babies, but we've grown apart over time because she has spent more and more time away from home at gatherings and celebrations with my parents. I personally find it quite vain for people to celebrate her for what likely is a one in a million magical flux, but that's just me. I think it's unhealthy the level of worship some people feel for her, but I won't judge as long as people don't annoy me over it."

The boy indeed looked chastised and embarrassed, and the girls, who had leaned in when he began his answer also looked awkward. "So, Julia, tell me more about yourself," he said, breaking the tension. He found that she was quite pretty when he glanced closer, with blonde hair that seemed to sparkle, coral blue eyes and very pink lips. He blushed at the thought of having a crush. Roger and Cassandra delved into their own small talk and Jeremy was left sitting there awkwardly twiddling his thumbs.

"Well, I have an older sister by three years, she's in Slytherin and can be nice when she wants to be but a right prick when she doesn't. I've been taught a few spells here and there by my parents, but I only got my wand when I was eleven, six months ago, but my sister let me use her wand since I was eight, when she got hers, during the summers anyways. What about you, do you duel?"

"I do, though I've never had a partner to train against, only sparring dummies. Eventually I outgrew one, so I added more." She looked at him with awe, and Harry briefly wondered if this was how Heather felt around others.

"You can take on several dummies at once? Even aurors only take them two-on-two in training, and you're telling me you can take on several?" This seemed to have attracted the attention of the rest of the ravenclaw first years, which now also included Jason Samuels, Sasha Simmons, Jessica Tailor, Holly Thompson and William Wilson. It seemed being the brother of the girl-who-lived counted for something.

"I can, much of my youth was spent training because I enjoyed it. I'm hoping that there'll be a chance for me to get more practice. Perhaps professor Filtwick will help us, I heard he is a duelling champion!"

Whatever she was about to respond was cut off when Arnold Zabka had been sorted into Hufflepuff and the headmaster rose, his eyes twinkling as he surveyed the students. "To old students, welcome back to Hogwarts. To the new, welcome to these hallowed halls, and I hope you are a credit to your house. As an old man, it is my greatest pleasure to see the youth enjoy themselves, but enough wise words, now is the time to tuck in!"

He brought his hands together in a clap and the food appeared in front of everyone. Platters of roasted meat and fish, as well as healthy servings of potatoes, mushrooms, carrots and peas. Harry took the pitcher of pumpkin juice and filled Julia's goblet before moving on to Cassandra and Roger, who were locked in an animated conversation on quidditch teams and did not notice he had filled their goblets. Deciding to be slightly cheeky, he carved several pieces of roast and passed it to Julia, who promptly blushed at the gesture. It seemed that the conversation next to them conveniently ended as Cassandra was making kissing sounds while Roger gave him a wolf howl, much to both embarrassment.

"Oh Roger, just agree that the Harpies would win if they wore more promiscuous clothing," Harry teased. "You know you can never win an argument against a woman as informed as Cassandra." Roger gave a dramatic sigh while Cassandra and Julia giggled.

"Quite the charmer, aren't you," Julia said wryly, "and here I thought I caught your eye."

"But you have, oh Julia, oh sweet sweet Julia!" he goaded. To his immense pleasure she blushed furiously as Cassandra gave her a good ribbing while Roger wolf howled again, patting him on the back.

"Oh don't worry dear, I'll stop teasing you, sweet Jules if you would agree to become my duelling partner! I promise it'll be worth your while."

"Hmm," she exaggeratedly pondered, returning the teasing in full force, "you are quite easy on the eyes, just a test question and I'll agree. What's the dueller's hello?"

"Silencio, petrificus totalus, and incarcerous," Harry replied easily from memory. Lady Voldemort would have cackled in laughter if anyone was stupid enough to use this, but he wouldn't say that in front of his first ever chance at a duelling partner.

"Hmm, so you weren't just posturing, fine, I'll accept." She rolled her eyes as Harry let out a cheer and gave Roger and exaggerated high five.

Soon enough, dinner was over, and they were led up to Ravenclaw tower by the prefects, who introduced themselves as Penelope and Marco. They approached the door to a knocker, where they approached a door with an eagle knocker. "Right, to enter the dormitories there is no fixed password, you have to answer a riddle to enter in. It trains your mind, and it is presumed anyone who can answer is worthy of being a Ravenclaw. Right, Rowy, let's hear it.

"I come in three parts, the first is us against who? For the second part, who would you seek out for guidance? For the third part, what do assassins, rogues or spies wear? If you peer underneath, you will be shown affection before death. What am I?"

"Any guesses?" Penelope encouraged.

"Dementor's cloak," Harry reasoned, and the knocker opened the door to allow them in. Most of the other first years looked at him in awe while the fifth year prefects gave an approving nod. They were led inside, where all were immediately drawn to the beautiful roof depicting the stars and the celestial bodies. A bronze statue of Rowena Ravenclaw stood at the center of the room, and there were several sofas by the fireplace as well as a small library.

"Right everyone, Ravenclaw is special in how the dorming works, there are no separations between males and females except in the bathrooms because decency is expected, and professor Filtwick does not want there to be a divide between the boys and girls as often is the case in other houses. Both boys and girls are expected to act decently towards each other. You're too young for this, but when you grow older, remember to use protection unless there are any accidents."

"From what? From the other houses?" an oblivious Jeremy Stretton asked. A few of the other Ravenclaw first years also looked confused, while Harry and Julia eyed each other, eyes twinkling in mirth as they bit down on their lip to prevent laughing out loud at the prefects, who looked at each other awkwardly. Roger Davies seemed aware of their predicament as well, as he was laughing and cajoling out loud along with William Wilson.

"Um...go research it yourself, Marco and I will not be explaining procreation today," Penelope squeaked embarrassed.

"Five sickles says you're not brave enough to provoke the prefects," Julia whispered in his year. He merely gave a smirk before plastering on an innocent face.

"But prefect Penelope, aren't you supposed to help us first years understand stuff? How could you not help us understand this if it seems so important. Seeing as you are embarrassed it must be important for us to understand so we don't embarrass ourselves in the future, right?"

"I-but-uh-" the prefects stuttered as Julia beside him was choking on her laughter while clutching her ribs. Just at this moment, professor Filtwick entered, looking like he was about to welcome the first years, when Harry decided to take it one step further.

"Professor Filtwick, Penelope and Marco were warning us about boys and girls having accidents, but they refuse to tell us more details so we can prepare. Can you explain?"  
Roger gave him a thumbs up while William was rolling on the floor laughing. Julia had the grace to hide her laughter behind her hand. The short professor let out a squeak as his cheeks flushed and he turned to the prefects, who steadfastly refused to meet his gaze.

"That is a conversation for you parents to have with you," the professor finally said. "For those of you that don't know, I'm your head of house, professor Filtwick, and you can come to me or your prefects here if you have any problems, though perhaps...some sensitive issues should be left to your parents. Right, anyways, I have the pleasure of informing you that the castle has recognized that ten of you are Ravenclaws, and you will have the pleasure of taking rooms in pairs. Each room has the basic necessities of a bed, a table and a chair. The rooms are quite spacious and most have windows, so feel free to attempt to transfigure anything you need, or you could ask an older student nicely for help. Interestingly, as there are five of each gender it seems at least one pair will be mixed," the professor commented.

Harry and Julia both looked around at the same time to realize the others had already paired up (for they had been standing next to each other). "Very well, it seems like the pairs are sorted," he said cheerfully. "Prefects, if you could lead up the students to their rooms, then."

The two prefects gave respectful nods to their head of house before leading them through a long corridor, passing by 3 doors labelled 'fifth year', 'sixth year' and 'seventh year' before they arrived at one listed as 'first year'. "Right, your dorms are yours for the next seven years, be glad that you're not at the far end as the current fourth years are, they take an additional five minutes from us to walk from their dorms."

They entered the door to find another shorter corridor, with two doors on the left, two doors on the right and one at the far end. The prefects stopped them beside the pile of trunks the elves had carried from the train and asked, "Right, are there any more questions?"

When Harry raised his hand he nearly burst out laughing at the prefect's grimace. "Yes?"

"Which of the rooms are connected to the water and sewage pipes?" The other first years stared at him as if he had grown a second head, Penelope smacked her head with her palm, but Marco's eyes lit up.

"Hmm, you're a smart one, only the one at the end," he responded.

"Right Julia, come with me, we're taking that one then," Harry said cheerfully, casting a levitation charm on his trunk, which floated behind him as he walked happily to the room, ignoring the confused looks of everyone else while Marco gave a hearty laugh.

"He plans on adding a toilet," Harry heard Marco explain to the others, just as he entered the room with a smirk. True to the prefect's words the room was quite large, a bed on each side and a desk and chair at the bed's end. A window at the end of the room facing the door.

"Revalio," Harry cast, waving his hand. He had become adept at basic wandless magic. Pretty much most spells that he had familiarized himself with he could cast wandlessly, his proudest achievements being a wandless mage shield and a wandless reducto, two very difficult spells in their own right. Only a scarce few powerful spells such as the killing curse were beyond his reach wandlessly.

The outlines of the pipe glowed white, and he followed it as it passed through the edge of the room. Satisfied, he took out his wand and began transmuting a toilet, between their beds, managing to create a three meter by two meter room with a faucet, a toilet and a standing shower.

"Where on earth did you find a toilet from?" Harry turned to see a flabbergasted Julia tugging her trunk behind her.

"I conjured it, don't worry, it's quite permanent," he replied amusedly. "Now you won't have to wait for the other girls before you take an hour long shower."

Indignation snapped her out of her revoir and she angrily snapped back, "I will have you know that I do not spend hours in a shower!"

"Yes dear," he replied easily. There was a pause before both blushed furiously once the words settled in, awkwardly refusing to meet each other's faces while hiding smiles.


End file.
